Chips on Your Shoulders
by 616
Summary: The life and times of KND Global Command. FILE X Numbuh 78, Numbuh 34, Numbuh Ten to Midnight
1. File I: Fanny, Chad, Cree

**NOTICE / UPDATE [ETA File X-forward]: While all these updates can be read in any order, File IX may be a better starting window / intro for the story as a whole to consider as an alternative to reading in posted  & original order starting here at File I. It's a suggestion and nothing more; I'd switch them around in chapter order myself if it wouldn't make a mess of the reviews.**

Also, minor tweaks are ongoing.  


* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTES**

This is basically series of snapshots of KND Global Command (from canon, and speculative / canon-derived) and the people they interact with. Timeline and chapter length varies. g:KND material is considered series canon for story purposes. 'Main' characters of every file are in the chapter titles so you can skip around if you want, even though events tie together and are overarching.

 **FILE I  
Characters: **Numbuh 86 (aka Fanny Fulbright), [ _ex-_ ]Numbuh 274 (aka Chad Dickson), [ _ex-_ ]Numbuh 11 (aka Cree Lincoln)  
 **File Under:** SERIES TIMELINE – unspecified **  
** **Archive Label:** Yes, Numbuh 86 knew exactly why that _teenager_ had saved her life. That didn't mean she had to like it.

* * *

Fanny gaped, wide-eyed with shock, when the form of Cree towering over her suddenly collapsed toppled unconscious from above. Numbuh 86's eyes swiveled automatically toward the cause.

Standing where the treacherous teenager had been was another familiar face: Chad, terrible and scowling, staring down at his fellow teen that'd been holding Numbuh 86 at knifepoint with a terrible expression.

"Don't touch her," he said lowly, finally lowering his weaponized stupefier. The words were directed to Cree's prone, unhearing form on the ground.

Fanny dizzily took in gasps for air. She found her voice again as the danger passed.

"N-Numbuh 274!" she managed finally, not as loudly as she'd have liked. "What were you _thinkin'?_ " Fanny's voice trembled still with fear, not entirely for herself, and she hated it. Hated stupid boys who became stupid teens who became stupid spies who couldn't even do their jobs right, because what if someone had seen? "That's supposed to be yer teammate, now! Ya could've blown your—!"

Before she could finish, Chad stormed over to her and seized Fanny by the front of her KND uniform.

"Wh—" Fanny startled automatically, indignant.

Chad only yanked her up to meet him, and her breath caught at the _look_ in his eyes when he looked at her. The teen's voice was ragged and he snarled.

 _"She could have killed you!"_

And Numbuh 86 knew this.

And she did not want to hear it from him.


	2. File II: Rachel, Harvey

**FILE II** **  
** ** ** **File Under:** **** PRE-SERIES TIMELINE – three years pre-S1  
 **Archive Label:** As Supreme Leader, Rachel had been a lot of things. Diplomatic. Patient. Understanding. Mindful. She wishes that she'd been more of those things as an older sister.

* * *

 **three years  
ago**

"Ha! Idiot!"

There was a whump, the sound of a hard kick landing. A grunted cry to match—a winded noise that cut off prematurely with the distinct thud of a body hitting a wall.

Footsteps. "What?" A looming, hard sneer of disdain, partially shadowed under a low pale fringe of bangs. "You really thought _you_ were good enough?"

"I-I will be!" Words, forced out between shallow and labored breaths. "I'm—I'm gonna be!"

And with that there were hands scraping with vigor for the surface of the wall behind. Short legs scrambling in tandem to gain purchase on the floor, trying just to get up.

"The way best…" Continued mumbled words. Suppressed fear bubbling into rage. "And nobody'll mess with us…I'm gonna live on Moonbase and never come home like you, 'cause I'll be so busy doing all the important missions. I'll be super strong and f-fight, like, the worst enemy adults ever, and…and teenagers _…_ "

There was a second, swift kick, another thud. And this time there was only ragged groaning after.

The figure above, attacking, scowled. " _'Ooh, I'm gonna be sooper strong…'_ " she mocked. Mimicking her fallen victim.

Hands thrown up in disgust.

"As if!"

Failure. Dismissal.

"You've got to do better than that if you wanna be in the Kids Next Door!" The insults came hard and fast, with hardly a breath in between: "If that's the best you've got then you're crazy if you think you have a chance. Honestly, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, I know I'm ashamed of you, you're even more pathetic than the stupidest operative who ever stupidly stupided at basic training, you're not even trying! I'm a super-best spy officer in the Kids Next Door and if you think for one second that I'm just gonna let you waltz on in and completely _embarrass_ me in front of everyone just 'cause we're related and let you ruin my chance–"

"Sis–"

"–of ever being Supreme Leader then you've got another thing coming, _Harvey!_ "


	3. File III: Bartie, Virginia

**FILE III  
Characters: **Bartie Stork (Numbuh 35), Virginia Sims (Numbuh 23) **  
** ** **File Under:** ** POST-SERIES TIMELINE – post-g:KND ** **  
**Archive Label:** They still have nightmares about seeing each other destroyed. Virginia can't live with that for the rest of her life.

* * *

 **two years  
from now  
**

"Are you saying…you don't want us to be going out?"

Even if his voice hadn't cracked on the last part, Bartie guessed he probably sounded pathetic. Virginia let out a huffed sigh that confirmed his fears. He thought that he could probably guess what she was going to say next before she started: Numbuh 35's mind had accepted it before he completely understood, already detaching itself the way it did sometimes now when upsetting things happened. He wanted to speak up now, maybe tell her that it was fine using the reassuring leader voice he was getting better at. But instead he found himself staring blankly at her in silence.

"What I'm _sayin'_ is," Virginia continued, "if you really care more about me and us going out than you do about rebuilding Moonbase Zero, you should quit tomorrow morning and call in a game of tag."

Okay, maybe he'd guessed wrong. Numbuh 35 stared at her dumbly and wondered why it was so much harder to talk to the girl he liked now than it had been in the midst of life-threatening peril.

"I know it's scary, but we can't just keep doing things to protect each other," Virginia said, halfway rambling, something she almost never did. "It ain't just you and me in the universe. We're all home now, and…" It had been just their group for the longest time. "You've been handling communications for Earth's KND for like, four years. You don't need me here to play your secretary."

He still stared at her, not exactly sure what to say. It felt wrong. What she said was true, how it wasn't so much about how he liked her as…that it was terrifying even now just to be separated. Not knowing what might happen when she wasn't there. Thinking on the fate of the former Sector V, maybe she was rightfully scared they were codependent.

Virginia's eyes were sad, but eventually her smile dropped. Bartie tried not to think about the scars on her arm that would have been holes in his lungs, or the bright blue mark of an alien ideograph emblazoned on his own right temple that stretched down and sideways across his forehead to nearly his brow. That mark still shone sometimes, at night, when he felt subtle shifts in a new, internal barometer that hadn't been there before the planetary decommissioning.

"Either reassign me back to artillery design back at Deep Sea Lab," Virginia was saying, "or I'll ask again whoever's here tomorrow. Either way…

"I guess the answer is, yeah, Bartie. I'm sorry. I think we should both go home."

They both did. Bartie lay awake in his bed late that night, considering all she'd said and refusing to let any of it make him cry. Earth's Supreme Leader didn't cry anymore. No consideration crossed his mind for the suggestion she'd given, and there was no call for the scattered KND to meet at the remains of the convention center when the sun rose.

But he did get up at one point to scribble a half-thought-out note on a piece of notebook paper, which he stared at a long time before crumpling it up and throwing it into the trash.

 _OK I get it but just so you know you're still It to_


	4. File IV: Pete, Peter, Patton, Herbie

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

I'm editing a few tweaks into earlier files to fix some wording / add lines / clarify timelines so please bear with me. I may edit this one a few times as well.

 **FILE IV**  
 **Characters:** Pete Doblemitz (Numbuh 44a), Peter Doblemitz (Numbuh 44b), Patton Drilovsky (Numbuh 60), Herbie (Numbuh 65.3); mentioned Rachel McKenzie (Numbuh 362), Fanny Fulbright (Numbuh 86)  
 **File Under:** SERIES TIMELINE – unspecified **  
Archive Label:** Patton insists they will never take him alive. The twins think he's being overdramatic.

* * *

"Numbuh 60!"

"Numbuh 60, sir!"

"We know you're in there—uh, sir!"

"Please come out, Numbuh 60!"

Patton cursed under his breath at the familiar voices outside the door. Traitors, the both of them!

"If I've said it once, I've said it a buhmillion times, soldiers!" he yelled out to them. "I AM NOT GOING!"

Okay, so maybe it wasn't fair of Numbuh 60 to blame the twins. Yes, they were trying to bring him in, but they were doing so on orders from high Global Command. Numbuh 44 were merely being good soldiers as he'd taught them. Not that Numbuh 60 had any intention of being a good soldier today: his plan was to wait it out and stay barricaded until he outlasted them both, and anyone else Moonbase sent.

Was it a good plan? Not necessarily.

Numbuh 60 had prepared his makeshift fortress as best he could with the notice he had. It was located in the deepest levels of the Arctic Base. Only elite operatives and prison guards could navigate this far down safely, and even then getting inside was another ordeal. If he had realized this day was coming, he would have spent months stockpiling in advance.

But what was done was done. They'd never take him alive.

Outside his sooper-secure, lock-me-in-and-throw-away-the-key stronghold, Numbuh 44 (designation a) glanced helplessly from the padlocked, chained, and boarded entryway and then to his twin, Peter, who was standing beside him. Numbuh 44 (designation b) only shrugged back and returned his brother's look with an identically lost expression.

They had known it would be hard to bring Numbuh 60 in when Moonbase gave the order, but this was ridiculous.

"Sir! You don't have to do this!" Numbuh 44a said hesitantly, rapping his knuckles against the door. "Just open the door, nice and easy, and we can pretend like this never happened."

"Yeah! There's still time," Numbuh 44b said. "If we leave now, the Supreme Leader doesn't even have to know you tried running away!"

There was a guttural sound from other side of the door somewhere between a growl and a yell. Patton must have been really angry. _"Negatory, Numbuh 44!"_ Numbuh 60 shouted back at them. _"You two do as you will. But I'm staying!"_

"But siiir…" Numbuh 44b said, faintly whining.

"We can't go up there without you," Numbuh 44a said.

"We're the one's who're supposed to bring you in, remember? We'll get in trouble if you're a no-show," Numbuh 44b finished.

Behind the door, they heard Patton bark a laugh. _"Does it look like I care?"_ he asked them from inside.

Peter huffed. "Well, I don't know, Patton," he said drily. "We can't exactly see what you look like, seeing as you're locked in there, and we're out here."

 _"Don't take that tone with me, you little brats!"_

Numbuh 44b and Numbuh 60 continued shouting at one another through the blocked door. Numbuh 44a, meanwhile distanced himself from the conversation a bit, biting his nails. He glanced nervously at the ice wall, where the nearest makeshift clock made of oven dials was hung up and affixed to a ceramic plate.

The display on the clock read **14.51,** military time.

Numbuh 44a turned back to Peter, who was still yelling through the door at Numbuh 60.

"This is so stupid! Let's just go on and get it over with!" Numbuh 44b was shouting at Patton. "You're being a baby, Patton! It's not like you've got the hard part—you get to go in and do your thing and leave, quick as a flash! We have the actual hard part!"

 _"I do not intend to break my three-year streak of GLORIOUS freedom today just because Numbuh 362-sir said so!"_

Peter opened his mouth (no doubt to make a rude response), but Numbuh 44a tugged on his sleeve before his twin could. Numbuh 44a pointed his twin in the direction of the clock, and the latter's eyes widened when he saw the time, precariously close to 15:00.

"Aw, crud! We're gonna be late!" Numbuh 44b whined.

"If we aren't at Moonbase with Patton at oh fifteen hundred…" Numbuh 44a shivered.

"Herbie's gonna find out."

"And then he'll tell the Supreme Leader that Numbuh 60 bailed again."

"And then Global Command's gonna send in Numbuh 86!" Peter finished, all but panicking. "Patton come on _come on_ , don't do this to us, man!"

"Pretty please?" Pete asked, rather less optimistically.

 _"Let 'em send who they want!"_ Patton yelled from his side of the door. _"I am not afraid of Numbuh 86!"_

"BUT WE ARE!" the twins yelled.

"She'll kill us!" Numbuh 44b said.

"And kick our butts!" Numbuh 44a added.

"And that's if Numbuh 362 doesn't, first," Numbuh 44b reminded him glumly. "She's gonna be sooper duper mad Patton went against direct orders."

"Not to mention botching all those reports first," Numbuh 44a said.

 _"That is not my problem, you spineless wimps!"_ Patton yelled.

Wimps or not, Numbuh 44 knew the importance of keeping their butts intact. If they couldn't get Numbuh 60 to cooperate, no one could except for the other members of Global Command, and most of them were not known for their mercy in not killing the messenger.

It was time to pull out all the stops.

"Please Patton!" Pete whined pathetically, finally breaking down to start pounding his fists against the door. It was a last-ditch attempt to gain sympathy from his commander of one year and a half, and he was too afraid to waste any pride over it. "We'll do all your homework for you! We'll talk to Herbie about his stupid pocket protectors until he forgets all about you!"

"Yeah, what he said!" Peter's kept looking back at the clock in concern. "You can't put it off forever, man! Everyone does it!"

"Yeah, everyone."

"People go every day and they're not dead!"

 _"As a pro-ooo-ooud kid, and a member of the Kids Next Door and all it stands_ for," Patton roared back, _"it'll be a cold day in heck before I sign away my hard-earned freedom from this nefarious adult institution!_ _And I swear that Supreme Leader or no, you will never, EVER take Numbuh 60 in alive to–"_

 **"NUMBUH 65.3, CALLING KIDS NEXT DOOR ARCTIC COMMAND,"** a voice suddenly interrupted them from the ceiling intercom. **"COME IN, ARCTIC BASE! OVER."**

Numbuh 44 both groaned. "It's over," Pete said.

"Totally over," Peter agreed.

From the ceiling above a 2x4 videophone screen descended. It paused to hang directly before the Doblemitz twins by the door. The screen image fizzled with static for a moment, and then Numbuh 65.3's impatient face appeared on-screen.

 **"Uh, hello?"** the communications officer asked in a long-suffering tone. **"Numbuh 44, there you are! Where are you guys?"**

Peter buried his face in one palm. His twin attempted damage control.

"Um! O-On our way, Herbie!" Numbuh 44a said, in a high and unconvincing voice. On the screen, Herbie squinted at them.

 **"Need I remind you that the two of you AND** ** **Numbuh 60 are scheduled for tutoring at Moonbase today?"**** Numbuh 65.3 asked. The camera image flickered showing him facing them with both doughy hands on his hips. **"And you are** ** ** **currently 3.5-going-on-3.6 teraseconds late!"**** **

"Um," Peter said. He didn't want to point out that 3.5 teraseconds would be roughly 100,000 years, seeing as Herbie was the one who was teaching them math and science as part of his service hours for Junior Honor Society. Numbuh 65.3 was too prideful to realize that his 'lessons' mostly made it obvious to the twins that he wasn't actually very good at math.

Oblivious to their concern, Herbie plowed on. **"Don't tell me you forgot! Numbuh 362 gave the direct order for you three, along with the other dropouts living in KND facilities, to attend tutoring twice a week at Moonbase. Otherwise, you wouldn't be able to keep up with us operatives who actually go to school, remember? And that includes Numbuh 60 writing his lines—Numbuh 60 he may not have class, seeing as he** ** **does technically pass all KND educational requirements including a fourth-grade diploma or equivalent,** but his penmanship is atrocious. Numbuh 362 has stated personally that she expects to see an 88.7 percent increase in legibility on his reports or else she will have him decommissioned for Migraine-Affliction of a a Kids Next Door Supreme Leader in the second degree. Now personally, I think he should share your Tuesday sessions in rudimentary math and English…"**

"Uh, you see, Herbie–" Pete cut him off, frantically trying to avoid the explosion he knew was coming.

"It wasn't our–!" Peter cried, but it was too late.

 _"I WILL NOT DO IT!_ _"_ Patton roared from his side of the door, nearly shaking the walls of the level of the Arctic Base and startling Numbuh 65.3. _"_ _ _IT HAS BEEN THREE YEARS AND I VOW FROM NOW UNTIL THE DAY I_ _DIE,_ YOU WILL NOT TAKE ME ALIVE! I DID NOT ESCAPE FROM MILITARY SCHOOL FOR THIS!"  
_

"Here we go," Peter sighed. There was no stopping Patton once he'd started in on one of his tirades.

 _"I AM NOT_ EVER _GOING BACK TO SCHOO-OO-OOL!"_

And so the well-rehearsed speech went on. Numbuh 44a and 44b could only grin apologetically at the video screen, where Numbuh 65.3 was staring at them and the padlocked door in total incredulity.

They'd tried their best but it turned out Numbuh 60 was a total lunatic about education. And between Herbie's haughtiness and Numbuh 86's attitude, the twins already knew this was going to end up getting pinned on them. That went double- or triple-duty for however long it took to starve Numbuh 60 out of his fortress, or send in the troops after him.

So much for making Patton go in quietly to write his stupid lines. Numbuh 44a and 44b glanced at each other and shared a sigh as their fearless commander continued yelling increasingly impassioned nonsense through the barricade. Typical Patton. All that authority and bluster to his name, and in reality he was as much a lunatic as any other member of the KND.

Mentally, the twin operatives braced for total blameification and bid their butts goodbye.


	5. File V: Abby, Rachel, Harvey, Fanny

**FILE V  
Characters:** Abigail Lincoln (Numbuh 5), Harvey McKenzie (ex-Numbuh 363), Rachel McKenzie (ex-Numbuh 362), minor Fanny Fulbright (Numbuh 86), Sonia (Numbuh 83), Lee (Numbuh 84), unnamed Decommissioning troops, mentioned Paddy Fulbright (Numbuh 85), Kuki Sanban (Numbuh 3), Wallabee Beetles (Numbuh 4), Nigel Uno (Numbuh 1)  
 **File Under:** POST-SERIES TIMELINE – post-Operation: I.N.T.E.R.V.I.E.W.S. **  
Archive Label:** It's the infamous Numbuh 363's decommissioning. Someone has to take him home.

* * *

For all the traitors and teens Numbuh 5 had seen in her years in the Kids Next Door who'd left it better off with their memories erased, she never expected to feel _gladness_ in the aftermath of someone's decommissioning.

Though if today's turnout for the unannounced, impromptu ceremony at Moonbase Zero was anything to go by, in the case of Numbuh 363 Abby hadn't been the only one. Numbuh 5 had ultimately had to pull rank and call a cease-and-dismiss in order to disperse the gawking assembly of operatives that had trickled into the auditorium to watch the premature end of Numbuh 363's career.

These Moonbase workers had grumbled a bit when they left (strictly speaking, the ceremony in full wasn't complete until the decommissioned party was brought back out from the chamber room and taken away for transport) but they'd gotten their share of the spectacle. Perhaps a few of them had found reason to mutter among themselves when Harvey was dragged back and spent his final moments cursing Numbuh 5 and her sector members as traitors, and liars, and conspirators who'd framed others to keep their friend's secrets buried. If there'd been any speculative murmur up in the stands following these words, Numbuh 5 only stood stoically and pretended to not notice. Any words spoken in such low tones would certainly have been drowned out by the screams, anyway.

But without any screams left or an audience to speculate about them, the auditorium was depressingly empty and quiet. With a sudden, sinking feeling, Numbuh 5 glanced around the auditorium to see if anyone else remained besides her and the stragglers from Decommissioning. The procedure itself was finished, so the remaining members of Numbuh 86's troops would be recalibrating the equipment in the chamber before they received permission to go. Presumably Numbuh 363 was still inside, too, with Numbuh 86.

A prickle at the back of her neck compelled Abigail's gaze upward and over her right shoulder. She strained her eyes and was surprised to see the figures of Sector W, or what was left of it, standing as a pair at the furthest balcony of the auditorium. Numbuhs 83 and 84 were seemingly observing the stage from the perch atop the upper decks, looking down at the stage that housed the podium where Abby stood. They seemed to be alone with no accompanying figures in sight to indicate their other friends were there. For once, Lee's hands were still, with no spinning wheels of a yo-yo or string zipping about him. Seeing even one of Numbuh 363's sector members filled Abby with a bit of small, selfish hope, which was quickly dashed when Numbuh 84 caught on to her staring and gave a jerking shake of the head toward his companion.

And Sonia…

Abby and Numbuh 83 were impossibly far apart from the stage to the highest balcony, but Numbuh 5's vision wasn't bad enough that she could deny the expression she saw on the smaller girl's face when she held Abby's stare from across the room. There was pain in those dark eyes, and sorrow, but not the specific gesture of mercy Abby had wanted.

Despite their sharing a glance with her, the two figures did not move from the balcony. It was hard to tell from a distance but she sensed they'd broken their attention from Abigail soon enough. Numbuh 5 supposed they both were waiting, like her.

Voices echoed from the Decommissioning Chamber beyond the stage.

 _"_ _Ugh, come_ ooon _already! Out with you, ya stoopid boy—FORWARD MARCH!"_

Heavy footsteps approached and Numbuh 5 managed to suppress a grimace at the familiar screeching voice of Numbuh 86. Already bordering on a headache Abby delayed turning to face the global officer until the last moment, at the point Fanny had already stopped in front of her for a salute.

And at first, Fanny was the only one Abigail saw. "All done, sir," Numbuh 86 said, a bit apprehensively. "Sorry 'bout the wait."

At a distance behind Numbuh 86, Abby saw the last of the Decommissioning troops had finished checking the equipment in the chamber visible through the open doorway. Not a second later, the operatives were making a collective break for the exit, and a mad one. The two boys practically pushed one another over to be first out of the auditorium. Numbuh 5 wanted to chide them for their obviousness and lack of professionalism, but at the same time she couldn't really blame them. Nor could she blame Numbuh 86 for the faintly ill look of desperation the younger girl was giving her now.

Abby sighed. "Any problems?" she asked. Might as well give Fanny a moment longer to avoid the problem exchanging the usual questions.

"No. Um—no, sir," Fanny said. She glanced behind her on the stage while wringing her hands, every bit of her posture screaming discomfort plainly. "No problems."

For a moment she sounded as though she was going to continue, so Numbuh 5 bit her tongue and waited for Fanny to finish. But Numbuh 86 was silent and Numbuh 5 was left with nothing to do but follow the other girl's gaze back to a space right behind her on the stage. Numbuh 5 frowned and wondered what the officer was waiting for, but before she could ask her eyes caught on to what she was seeing in that spot: a figure lurking behind Numbuh 86, so motionless it was nearly impossible to discern him from his surroundings.

With a start, Abigail realized belatedly that Numbuh 363 seemed smaller, decommissioned.

"About that—uhhh, this one," Fanny said, gesturing lamely in the general direction of Harvey behind her. Oddly, he seemed to occupy so little space nearby that it was actually difficult to point at him. The redhead braced herself, nearly grimacing, before continuing, "D-D'you…maybe…ya'need me to …?"

Abigail knew what question was coming and wanted nothing more than to say exactly yes. To force Numbuh 86 handle it. Abby definitely didn't want to.

Almost as an afterthought, Numbuh 5 glanced up hopefully one last time at the balcony where Lee and Sonia had stood before. They were still there, and staring down at their (oddly silent) former teammate on the stage. Numbuh 83 was hard to make out in the dimming lights of the stage, but the tiny girl was clearly shaking, hands over her mouth. Abby imagined Sonia's eyes were probably filled with tears, possibly out of sorrow but more likely in grief and anger at what Harvey had put them through. Poor kids didn't deserve to lose another member, after Paddy. When Numbuh 5 looked at the younger girl Sonia noticed, and finally seemed to lose her nerve. As Numbuh 5 watched, Numbuh 83 backed away from the edge of the balcony in a clumsy stride and turned on her heel, running for the exit and out of sight. Left alone on the balcony, Lee met Abby's look squarely when she turned to him next and he shook his head. With that done Lee vanished backward on the balcony and disappeared, apparently having taken away whatever he needed to from the glimpse of Harvey post-decommissioning.

Numbuh 363's sector would not be the ones to volunteer to take him home.

And so it fell to Abby.

Awkwardly, she cleared her throat. "Nah, it's all right, Numbuh 86, it's all right," she said reluctantly. She turned to Numbuh 363— _former_ Numbuh 363—and didn't miss the way the seven-year-old's face remained disturbingly blank and his brown eyes stayed glued to the floor.

If she had to guess, Harvey seemed to be aware of his surroundings, but aside from the sight of his hands curled into fists at his sides he was unresponsive.

Numbuh 5 cleared her throat again, louder this time. "C'mon, Harvey," she said clearly. She lightly jerked her head toward the auditorium exit, hoping he'd see.

Harvey did not move. For all the response Abby got she may as well have not spoken at all.

She glanced to Numbuh 86. The other girl cringed and shrugged, giving Abby a nervous laugh before pointing lamely at the door. It was a wordless question, or maybe a plea. Numbuh 5 sighed in irritation and nodded her permission, mostly to get Fanny out of her hair. Numbuh 5 still wasn't sure how much of the McKenzies' family situation Fanny knew—had in fact actively avoided discussing topic with her after the exchange they'd had after the game of tag that left Abby Supreme Commander—but with Numbuh 362's disappearance still being such a sensitive topic for them all Abby had a hard time gauging what her veteran Head of Decommissioning may or may not let slip inadvertently to Rachel's families under pressure.

It was hard to face the task of delivering one child back to his parents when the other was an MIA fugitive from the Kids Next Door and the world.

Fanny didn't need to be dismissed twice. The red-haired officer gave Numbuh 5 perhaps the world's hastiest salute and pulled an about-face before she ran at just shy of a sprint to get out of the auditorium. Which left Numbuh 5 alone with Harvey.

Or maybe not alone. Out of the corner of one eye Numbuh 5 saw a trace of movement in the eaves of the auditorium. Acting as though she hadn't noticed, Numbuh 5 ignored this and deliberately focused her attentions again on Harvey.

"Hellooo?" Numbuh 5 asked him, her voice deliberately louder than it needed to be. Harvey did not move or say anything, but he stiffened almost imperceptibly, giving Abby her cue to continue.

"Yo, half-pint. Earth to Harvey…anybody home?"

The boy's breathing was growing a bit more shallow, eerie in the silence of the auditorium. His eyes were glazed. Still, he did not move. Abby had a hard time telling with Harvey's eyes fixated on the floor, but she thought she saw his gaze flickering left to right.

She didn't have time to guess at what was going through his twisted little mind. Tired of waiting, Abigail decided to end this little game, and reached for Harvey's arm.

 ** _"_** ** _Don't touch him."_**

Numbuh 5 knew that voice.

Suspicions confirmed, Abby lowered her hand where it was stretched toward Harvey and turned with a cool expression to see none other than Rachel T. McKenzie on the stage. Rachel's words were said in an acid tone and her expression was black. The look she was giving Numbuh 5 could peel the skin off vegetables.

Unafraid, the KND's former Supreme Leader walked across the stage toward Abby. Rachel stopped when they were feet apart and glanced away from Abby to her younger brother for the slightest of moments.

Rachel seemed to recompose herself in a moment. Her gaze was steely-eyed. "Give me him," Rachel bit out.

Numbuh 5 narrowed her eyes at the other girl's nerve.

"Long time no see, _teenager_ ," Abby spat—knowing full well the weight of her words.

Rachel's hands clenched into fists and then uncurled again. "Give me him," she snapped again. She seemed to struggle with her words for a moment, then added, "He's my brother. I'm taking him home."

Abby folded her arms and cocked an eyebrow at Rachel: the girl who could have been the best spy the KND's teen operatives had ever recruited and threw it all away.

"Uh-huh. And tell me, why shouldn't I–" Abby resisted the automatic impulse to slip, and refer to herself _Numbuh 5_ instead, a habit she'd consciously dropped after becoming Supreme Commander, "–call Numbuh 86 back in here to decommission yo' thirteen-year-old self for showing up here at Kids Next Door headquarters?"

Rachel's hard glare did not falter. "You can try," she said.

The two girls stared at one another for a drawn-out moment. It was a silent, unspoken contest of wills.

Throughout all this, Harvey still had not spoken or moved. And that was what finally made Abigail slump her shoulders and concede defeat.

Someone had to take him home.

Upon being given permission Rachel's gaze seemed to soften the slightest bit, though that could have been Numbuh 5's imagination. Wordlessly Abby looked on as the teenager stepped past her toward Harvey. With visible effort, Rachel's demeanor transformed to become softer and more gentle. An attempt at it, at least.

"Hey, Harvey," Rachel said, stopping a bit less than a foot away before leaning down toward him. "Sorry I'm late. You ready to go?"

Harvey did not say anything. He did look up at her, suspiciously. If there was recognition in his eyes Numbuh 5 did not see it.

Rachel looked like she wanted to roll her eyes and sigh. Or maybe cry. But she forced a smile, and Abby didn't miss the way the teenager deliberately avoided looking at her while she spoke to Harvey.

"Harvey," Rachel chided again. He squinted at her accusingly and Rachel laughed a little. "Yeah, that's your name. You know that. You remember me, Harvey, right? That's my sweater you're wearing."

Surprised, Abigail looked at Harvey's uniform to check whether this was true. Indeed, she'd never noticed before, but the overlarge maroon jumper Numbuh 363 wore was rather uncharacteristically faded compared to the rest of his gaudy outfit. The sweater looked like it could well be a hand-me-down. He'd sewn on the chips on his shoulders after the fact, but, aside from the orange badges, the sweater bore all signs of being Rachel's.

Abigail found herself feeling a bit depressed for the first time today, the emotion having been misplaced somewhere between _frustration_ and _rage_ and _resignation_ at having to decommission a seven-year-old operative. Numbuh 363 had been more than competent at his job but Abigail couldn't ignore his insane behaviors any longer. He'd broken Kuki's arm in one of his hysteric fits over being touched after she'd saved his life, and if Abby hadn't stepped in to remove Harvey when she had, Wally probably wouldn't stop until he killed him.

But the insufferable Harvey McKenzie Numbuh 5 knew was difficult to reconcile with whoever it was that Rachel was currently talking to. This kid might as well have been a mannequin, to the degree it felt nearly like a miracle, when he finally looked up at his sister and nodded slightly once.

Rachel sighed aloud. Her relief at Harvey recognizing her was palpable. "Okay," she said. "Okay. I'm taking you home."

There was a stiffening in the younger boy's shoulders, which Abby barely had time to notice before Rachel hastily amended, "No, no, no; not to stepdad's place! We're going to Dad's."

Harvey minutely relaxed again. Rachel made a sound of relief. She stood up to her full height and glanced over at the Supreme Commander.

"This doesn't change anything," Rachel said.

Numbuh 5 kept her arms folded. "Wouldn't dream of it. _Traitor_."

And there were so many questions left that Abigail wanted to ask. Like what had possessed Rachel to go rogue at thirteen when she'd already been a shoe-in to the teenage ops, where she hid while her families searched frantically to no avail, what reason she had to hunt down random scientists over a Splinter Cell that never existed, how could she do this to Nigel's memory and betray the KND's faith in her, why; _why_ , _why_ , _why_.

But this wasn't the time or the place. Rachel was doing them a favor by sparing the KND the ordeal of returning Harvey. And however necessary a loss it was, Abigail owed the other girl at least the time to grieve.

"Well, go on," Numbuh 5 said with a nod of her head.

When Rachel left without a word, Harvey followed her as silently as a shadow. And the Supreme Commander followed suit and headed for the opposite end of the stage to exit the dark auditorium.


	6. File VI: Chad, Numbuh 12

**FILE VI  
Characters:** Chad Dickson (Numbuh 274), Numbuh 12, mentioned Fanny Fulbright (Numbuh 86), Numbuh Infinity  
 **File Under:** SERIES TIMELINE – takes place directly after Operation: S.L.U.M.B.E.R. **  
Archive Label:** A traitor is a traitor. But who or what exactly is she betraying?

* * *

Well.

First an unexpected end to the 'slumber party of the year,' and now this. Tonight was full of surprises.

Chad didn't bother to silence his footsteps as he crossed the length of the teens' local underground Bike Rack tunnel. He kept moving toward the dim light shining at the end of the passage, past the docking station. At the far end of the tunnel, the wall-mounted monitor of the teens' base's computer was lit up, displaying a lengthy block of white pictographic characters that scrolled slowly over a black screen.

What might have looked like simple code or gibberish to the untrained eye was a language intimately familiar to Chad. The script was programming he could not make heads or tails of, some coding for an alien computer script, and it was written in the Galactic Kids Next Door Alphabet and Numeric System standard.

Standing at the desk beneath the monitor was a small, curly haired figure Chad recognized—would have recognized even without factoring in the night's earlier events. Three years was a long time to keep track of one girl, but Chad had memorized every operative that counted among the ranks of the Kids Next Door between the period of a year prior to his joining and the present day. Small, unassuming Numbuh 12 was no exception.

But it seemed after tonight's unexpected twists that the girl may not be so small or unassuming after all. And looking past her to the stolen Code Module laying open on the desk near the hard drive, Chad was displeased to realize he didn't know her as well as he thought.

He kept walking but took more caution with the volume when he was close enough to see fragments of the code written on the screen. Chad stopped and paused just a moment to try and discern the meaning or purpose of the program. He could pick out a few key words, from the largely incomprehensible mess of extraterrestrial punctuation and computer jargon: "OP-Numbuh," "commissioning," "progress," "CLASS-PLANET," among others, with plenty more that scrolled by too fast to read.

It was the same language that Infinity used for Galactic Cell communications, at least the ones that had to be delivered in writing. Chad had declined any help in learning the language and studied the system well enough on his own to decode messages letter by letter without any problems or having to use a note key. Now, he cursed himself for not practicing the language until he could read it with perfect fluency. He wanted to know what exactly this program was for, and what it did—and why it required the Code Module to be wired into the computer's input ports.

Chad's eyes caught movement from the desk, Numbuh 12 dragging the wireless tracker for the cursor left so that it moved across the screen over the coding. Even now, the girl apparently was too caught up in her work (whatever it was) to notice she was being watched. Chad saw her hand was shaking atop the tracker and it took a moment for her to click down for a selection: instead of a separate window, a square-shaped gap suddenly appeared within the center of the block of white-lettered code, the text and numbers parting seamlessly around it to accommodate the empty space. Numbuh 12 took a deep breath before the monitor and reached her hands for the keys of a trapezoid-shaped, thoroughly alien keyboard she had plugged in to the hard drive through a series of four or five connected adapters.

 **GALACTIC**

She typed the word into the box, the symbols still those of the Galactic Kids Next Door Alphabet. This word in particular was one Chad knew by memory, though Numbuh 12 was typing slowly enough for him to read it out by individual letters.

The term disappeared and the box dimmed for a moment, then reappeared with the cursor. The latter blinked expectantly in the box, waiting. Numbuh 12 typed in a search term, or perhaps a command, with trembling hands. Words appeared in the box in a string of large slanted symbols, and Chad automatically found himself translating and piecing together the individual letters and numbers on-screen as they appeared:

 **S-LEVEL OPERATIVE EARTH 000  
**

Posture tense, Numbuh 12's hands stilled on the keyboard. Chad watched the input box on-screen go dim again, before a string of new text appeared:

 **FLUSHER ON STANDBY  
PLANETARY EVAL PENDING  
**

"Ugh!"

Chad didn't start, but it was a near thing: Numbuh 12 had let out a cry of anger without warning and slammed her fist down on the desk. Her face was bathed in shadows from the light of the computer, but he could tell her eyes were affixed completely to the screen.

" _'_ _On standby!'_ " the girl mimicked angrily, nearly stamping her feet in bizarrely uncharacteristic frustration. She threw up her hands wildly, ranting to herself. "Well no duh, on standby! But who _is_ it?!"

Chad decided he'd seen enough. He took the opportunity to clear his throat before she could continue. He stepped into view, and Numbuh 12 whipped around to face him with a horrorstruck expression.

"I have a better question, twerp," Chad said loudly, moving forward until he faintly loomed over her. He hadn't wanted this girl at Fanny's party earlier, and now he knew why—Infinity hadn't cleared anyone else for undercover work on tonight's mission, let alone another operative of the Galactic Cell. "Just who the heck are _you?"_


	7. File VII: Fanny, Numbuh 206

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

I'm not dead, just tired! PM at this account is actually the best way to reach me right now for those of you who'd usually do otherwise.

 **FILE VII**  
 **Characters:** Fanny Fulbright (Numbuh 86), Numbuh 206  
 ** ** **File Under:** **** PRE-SERIES TIMELINE – unspecified  
 **Archive Label:** From the time before, when she hadn't been the one holding all the cards.

* * *

 **four years  
ago**

Numbuh 86 glanced down nervously at the cards in her hand and then back to the floor, where two more rows of three had been laid out facing each other. She looked back to her hand and wavered, uncharacteristically hesitant to pick a move.

Numbuh 206 made a noise of impatience from where he sat opposite her on the floor. Embarrassed, Numbuh 86 bit her lip and ducked her head, tentatively selecting a card from her hand and placing it down.

"I use this K-9 Cargo Boost to armor my Yipper Setter Squadron," she announced.

She was trying not to sound too uncertain of her choice. She'd only played Yipper Card Squadron a handful of times, and all had been with her current opponent, Numbuh 206—whose willingness to explain the rules of anything hinged entirely on whether or not doing so would give him the opportunity to make himself look smart, or her exceptionally stupid.

She didn't like Yipper, but Numbuh 206 wouldn't play with any of _her_ toys and a stupid card game was better than sitting in silence all night. Or at least it was when Numbuh 206 wasn't using it as another excuse to make fun of her just because she was younger.

As if on cue the older operative glanced down at the card Fanny had placed faceup by her row and scowled. His gaze lingered on her _Yipper #16_ for several seconds longer than necessary before he looked at her with narrowed eyes.

"You can't play that card like that," the nine-year-old said finally.

Indignation and self-doubt welled up in Numbuh 86, and she fought them back down. He wouldn't let her live it down if she lost her composure. Even if he _always_ claimed there was some rule or another against whatever card she was attempting to use when she took her turn, only to fiercely deny it worked the same way if those cards ended up in his deck the next game. "Why not?" she demanded.

"No Yipper K-9 Boosts allowed on a Setter Squadron," he said, pointing distastefully at her row of cards. "You can use K-9s for Yipper Spaniel Squadron, Yipper Retriever Squadron, or any of the others, but not Setter. That's the rule."

Numbuh 86 seized the trading card from the floor, actually shaken enough to double-check it before she shoved it in his face to read for himself. "It doesn't say anything about that on the card!"

"No," Numbuh 206 said as he shoved her roughly back from him, "it's part of the rulebook. Only _real_ players would know about stuff like that."

Fanny lost her balance where she'd been crouched with her weight on her knees and tumbled sideways, managing barely not to yelp in surprise at being pushed. "Wh—Where in the rules does it say that?" she asked as soon as she managed to sit up, fuming. "Show me yer book then!"

"What's the point?" he jeered. " _Babies_ can't read."

"I can so read," she argued, not realizing how worked up she was getting until her face was burning hot. "I'm the one who does all the writing for our mission reports!"

"Well then, go do that, girlie." The nine-year-old rolled his eyes again and began to gather his cards from the floor, including the ones Numbuh 86 had borrowed to play since she had none of her own. Under his breath, Fanny heard him mutter, "Yipper is a boys' game, anyway."

Numbuh 86 wanted to argue some more, but Numbuh 206 outranked her. And she knew a dismissal when she heard one. "…Aye, aye, sir," she forced herself to say, and stiffly went to do the night's report.

The next day at school, Fanny borrowed an old copy of the Official Yipper Card Squadron Manual from Numbuh 8-A instead of sleeping, and tore it to shreds after reading it from cover to cover without finding a trace of the rule Numbuh 206 had mentioned.


	8. File VIII: Cree, Abby

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

So, I was thinking from now on about adding a final section of file notes (if notes are needed) at the bottom of each under another section break. It's kinda clumsy formatting-wise but it lets me clarify things that can't be explained beforehand without spoilers or other reasons. Suggestions & thoughts welcome.

On that note…would anyone be for or against it if I made a list of specific sources for minor / one-episode characters that are easily forgotten, or that only appeared in the comics, etc.? I don't want to bog you down with info but I also don't want to leave anyone in the dark about characters I'm using possibly being mistaken for OCs (none of them are, no OCs in this story). It gets much more obscure from here. Feedback is love!

 **FILE VIII**  
 **File Under:** TIMELINE – Season 4-ish  
 **Archive Label:** There's a day of the year that Cree hates, even more than the Kids Next Door itself. A day that she almost feels bad for hating them. But not quite.

* * *

Cree had bought flowers for the occasion the day before. By the time she pulled up to the cemetery at daybreak, they looked about as wilted and pathetic as she felt. She glanced at them morosely in the seat beside her after parking, too drained and dispirited to care that her bike was in the handicap space. Yellow dahlias. A type that had serrated leaves and rounded petals. She'd had to try a few grocery stores to find anything close to the ones she wanted, a wildflower mix that people had in their backyards but real florists were too uppity to carry.

They were the kinds of flowers that had once grown in her backyard, near her sector's treehouse at her old home. They had liked them. Cree remembered times when they'd pick bunches of the scrappy flowers from the grass only to fight over who got to gift her the 'bouquet,' which was inevitably destroyed.

Most days, the sight of yellow dahlias made her happy. Cree didn't want to be happy now.

"Hey guys," she said, voice unsteady as she approached the pair of graves. "I…I kept my promise, okay? I came to visit you and all that junk."

Dead silence and the two familiar names on the stones in front of her were her only answer. Cree felt a lump forming in her throat and selfishly wished, just for a moment, that she'd gone to Piggy's house last night for the local teens' impromptu soda party. It might have given her some relief from all that came with the passing of the…anniversary.

At the same time, there was an odd catharsis in knowing she still wanted to cry. That she still felt the urge cry like the years before instead of being left with faint sadness or even nothing at all. It assuaged the gnawing, unfamiliar feeling that only came to her on the weeks leading up to this date and faded after.

She wasn't a monster. She was evil, proud, and a villain, but a part of her was relieved she could still cry. For them.

Cree resigned herself to the visit, that it was happening, and eased herself down to a sitting position before the graves. She needed a couple of breaths before she could speak.

"So it's been a year again, I guess," she said, more to fill the silence than anything. "Time flies, you know how they say, with the passing, and the having a good time, and the…" She caught herself rambling and shook her head before it dragged on further.

"Actually, now that I think about it," she amended, "this year went by a lot slower than last one." Her eyes snapped up and she sat a bit straighter after, adding haughtily, "I mean, I'm still moving up on the ladder and everything's going according to plan. _Obviously_. But those bratty Kids Next Door of yours are always–"

Mid-sentence Cree realized just what she was saying, and to whom, and abruptly stopped.

Not because she hadn't meant it, or she didn't still hate the stupid Kids Next Door. She rationalized quickly and easily, as came with practice. She was just…she could make nice and be polite for one day, was all. Seeing as these were _their_ graves, and she was visiting on the anniversary of the day they died.

It was only fair. It wasn't because she cared about what they'd think of what she said about their legacy.

"…And for the record, I'm not doing this just because you brats were in my sector or anything, either," she added defensively. "I mean, like, you weren't actually my friends. I was in with the teens practically the whole time. If it were anyone else, I could care less about a couple of dumb Kids Next Door making a mistake and getting themselves…you know."

Cree certainly didn't care if other rotten kids got what was coming to them in the final sense. She was responsible a dozen-fold or more herself, for ending KND operatives' careers _prematurely_ , so to speak.

It wasn't that. The reason it mattered, she reminded herself, was that it was a waste. These two would have been assets, given the time to grow up and mature. Kids Next Door didn't stay kids forever. Cree would've waited for the both of them to come to their senses and join her side when they turned thirteen. Just like Abby would in due time, whether she liked it or not.

They shouldn't have died, Cree thought angrily. Her eyes began to sting. Three years.

The image of two nine-year-olds swam in her mind's eye, the sight of the gravestones blurring with tears. One more year and they'd have been thirteen.

"You'd have been great as teenagers," Cree said through clenched teeth. She was holding herself together out of pride. "It shouldn't have happened the way it did. You weren't supposed to–"

She let out a single, angry sob before biting it down. Her mind already was springing to the defense to protect itself from grief or thoughts of remorse.

"A-And don't say it's because of teenagers that this happened in the first place!" she went on, voice growing louder to drown out frightening second-guesses in her mind. "Those guys, they w-weren't like us. They were just reckless, stupid jerks who thought they could…I mean, what they did was totally out of line. The plan was, I was always going to recruit you guys as soon as you were old enough. That's how it was supposed to be."

And then everything would have been as it should have all along, before that dream fell apart along with so much else. A beat of silence passed that stretched on while she tried and failed to stop grief from overtaking her.

"Th-They knew I had dibs," she said bitterly after a spell. Her voice shook, and the tears wouldn't stop, now. "They should have known, h-how all three of you were…you guys weren't supposed to be any of the ones that died."

She didn't trust herself to say more without breaking down. Thoughts manifested in angry succession instead of speech, most directed to the inhabitants of the two graves before her. Thoughts of how they weren't the only ones who'd gotten screwed that day, all right; _she_ was the one that lost her house and all her belongings when the treehouse exploded in her family's backyard. The way Abby treated her differently after the move, a switch flipped at some point from wanting to change Cree back to who she'd been to fighting without holding back.

Cree wanted to tell the twins that it wasn't by choice that she hadn't been there. That she'd been on the other side of the world and only came back later to find what was left of her past in ruins. That she hated herself partly, even now, for not having been there. At the same time she also thought angrily how the damn brats should've just given the attackers what they wanted. They could have prevented it all from ending up in a big fiery disaster. It was only some information. It was only a few remaining access codes that would have spelled the end of the Kids Next Door.

They didn't have to resist, and keep resisting until the detonators went off.

If those two idiots had been really so smart, had liked to brag so much about their kiddie 2x4 technology, then why—why, _why_ couldn't Numbuhs 8A and 8B use their stupid brains for once, and save themselves?

The question rang hollow. Only silence came to her in the cemetery.

Cree slowly unwound herself from the brink of tears. She breathed deeply for long moments until she calmed back down again. It wasn't her fault, she told herself again and again during the long, painful minutes that passed in thought. She hadn't done it. She would never. It shouldn't have happened.

And even if some, small part of this was her fault…if they'd gotten on the teens' radar because of her…if even just her continuing _on_ with her life when it happened was somehow wrong, or made _her_ guilty of anything…Cree had done everything it took and more to make up for it.

"I swear to you it won't happen again," she said of the last of these thoughts. Perhaps some part of the twins were there with her in some way, somewhere, and listening. Perhaps they'd forgive her if they were here and knew the truth, the way Abby never would if she found out. "You can count on that. I haven't told you this before, or really anyone this, but…those teens who did it, I—I…

"I took care of them after." She took a shuddering breath. "Permanently."

Saying the last part out loud, to anyone, for the first time with no ambiguity made Cree feel better instead of worse. For all that plenty of people knew (in fact was openly known in the Teens' faction as an unspoken declaration of boundaries), saying the words made a difference. To hell with what anyone thought (or would think, if they knew), and to hell with her own memory of the awful guilt and self-doubt that had plagued her for weeks after with shell-shock and physical sickness. That was just her being childish and narrow-minded. Just a phase.

Cree had gotten older. She'd had time to reflect on the people who did this to her home, her treehouse, her _ki_ —former teammates, and what she'd done as payback in return.

She wasn't sorry for killing any of them. She didn't feel anything but satisfaction at the memory of six teenagers she'd hunted down one by one grieving and out for blood. Their bodies would never be found or receive a proper burial like the victims resting in front of her.

She wasn't sorry for anyone she'd killed since then, either.

With relief and clarity at this self-affirmation Cree relaxed. The sun rose and she stayed at the resting place of Numbuhs 8A and 8B for a while longer. A sense of final peace had set in at her decision and at last she could simply enjoy the silence and what good memories were left.

She did not notice, in her content, the shadow of her sister spying on her from behind the walls of the nearest mausoleum.

Cree remained serenely unaware in the moment when Abby reeled back a scant few yards away and made a sudden, desperate beeline for the cemetery exit. Abby wasn't in a state of mind to realize how fortunate for her Cree's inattention was. Abby was preoccupied fully with her thoughts, shaken to the core, and ran clumsily in a blind stupor as if her sister's words had been a knife instead.

She ran. From Cree's flat-out confession of…of the worst thing a person could do, to a kid or a teen or anyone.

She ran also from herself and the knowledge that somewhere in her mind, she'd already known what Cree did back then. Knew what her sister's reaction was that day when the twins decided to play hero, tricking eight-year-old Abby into an escape shuttle to northern Germany before going down with the fortress they'd built.

Abby ran, too, from realizations in hindsight of what Maurice's statements over the years had _really_ meant. Cryptic words, spoken in dark moments meeting over sodas and hard sugar to remember their former comrades. She didn't want to know that he'd known too all along, what Cree did.

That he'd almost certainly planned to do it himself, if Cree had not.

Abby wanted to not know this. She wanted to just have things be where good was good and evil was evil. She didn't want this. On the anniversary of the second-worst day of her life, Numbuh 5 hated that she couldn't even grieve properly. It was too distressing not to know just _whose_ deaths in this were more terrible and wrong.

* * *

 **FILE ADDENDUM**

In case it was ambiguous, Numbuhs 8A and 8B are twins that appeared in flashbacks once or twice as former members of Sector V. They were in the KND with Cree, Abby, and Maurice before Nigel or anyone else was in Sector V. The show never stated anything about what happened to the twins or if they were decommissioned, but the two struck me as looking and acting not much older than Abby herself. I went with the worst-case scenario.

Also, take "three years ago" both here and from Operation: M.A.U.R.I.C.E. loosely as possible. With the exception of calendar dates like this chapter, I'm using "X years ago" in flashbacks only to say the year chronologically it happened, not how long ago specifically.


	9. FILE IX: Numbuh 100

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

I was planning to re-order the chapters to make this file the new intro / first part of the story, since the one with Chad and Fanny felt like too much of a cold open…and then I realized I'd have to (1) mess with the existing reviews for each chapter beyond repair, or (2) delete the whole story and start over. So instead here's the new chapter as regular file with a kinda fancy number to designate its would-be status as the "honorary" new File I if I'd been able to go back and insert it at the beginning.

 **FILE _NULLA-_** ** **I** [FILE IX]**  
 **Characters:** Numbuh 100; _mentioned_ Numbuh 362 (Rachel T. McKenzie), misc. operatives  
 **File Under:** SERIES TIMELINE – time lapse from pre-Season 1 through start of g:KND  
 **Archive Label:** Decommissioning happens. Life goes on. At least for him.

* * *

Numbuh 100 had gone to his decommissioning gracefully.

Nearly three years later the boy that had been him was no longer Numbuh 100. Not in any sense but name and physical appearance, and even that was changing.

He was a teenager. Not in terms of allegiance to a faction, or harboring evil intentions toward anyone kid or otherwise. The girls at his school asked, sometimes, if he wanted to come to their strategy meetings, dances and pep rallies where they supposedly made up plans. He always just grinned goofily and shook his head in response. He was too shy to dance even if he'd liked girls, and aside from the cool bikes there wasn't much about the organized teens' agenda that appealed to him.

Personally he thought the whole thing was kinda stupid. He supposed if some high schoolers got their kicks bothering kids or negotiating with evil adults, that was fine. Free country and all that. But he'd end up in the military after eighteen anyway unless some miracle came along that gave him options and he sure as heck wasn't about to sign on with any bra-wearing crazies in the meantime.

That said…the teenager did wonder about some of the things the teens said sometimes, especially about kids and what they were up to. Kids in general were a danged mystery to him, frankly. He hardly ever noticed them at all unless someone else pointed one out, filtered into the periphery of his life like so much white noise. Like one of those weird puzzles where you had to look for certain shapes camouflaged by a whole picture they made put together.

He just felt like he was missing something, sometimes. He was sure it was him over-imagining things, but there'd been weird occasions before when a kid would kind of size him up in passing that gave him the heebie-jeebies, gave eerie credence to the familiar teenage propaganda that bratty children were always trying to spy on them. He didn't actually think of kids as organized or something terrible that needed to be destroyed, but it sure was weird how they sometimes stopped in their tracks when they saw him and often grabbed the kid beside them to make sure they saw him, too.

Then there was a few birthdays back. He couldn't remember what year it'd been, but he knew a little blond girl had spent two days following him around with an expression like either she wanted to kill him, or he'd done something terrible that made her cry—though he racked his brains for a while and swore he'd never seen her in his life.

Another kid had once gone tongue-tied seeing who was working the cash register of the burger joint where the older boy worked, and kept calling him 'sir' or 'mister-commander' something-or-other between stammering out a single number a bunch of times that wasn't close to the order printed on his receipt.

Kids occasionally saluted him like soldiers every so often in the street; which, well, that was weird even for kids. Even more weird considering more than once, the very sight of him had been enough to send a different kid or two bursting into tears and running away.

It was weird.

But weirdness was insulated by the monotony of school and home and growing up. Loud music and homework made the white noise of those moments disappear into the background, and as they happened less and less over time, he began to forget about them.

Years passed, and the lingering doubts about childhood and anything it stood for disappeared back into the periphery, white noise, for the boy who'd been Numbuh 100.

And he didn't think about kids or any connection he might have to them again until the aliens came.

* * *

 **FILE ADDENDUM**

If you aren't familiar, Numbuh 100 (real name unknown) is a previous Supreme Commander of the KND three years prior to the series' start when Nigel was in basic training before Chad aka Numbuh 274 took over. Numbuh 100's first appearance was in a flashback in Operation: M.A.U.R.I.C.E. and his current status is listed on the rainbowmonkeys / g:KND site as "decommissioned."


	10. File X: Angeline, Numbuh 34, Numbuh…

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

Man I am so behind on fic stuff. Even with reading / reviewing my fave stories let alone working on mine. But hey have this file anyway since I pretty much HAD to give the tenth installment to Sector X and I've been sitting on three unfinished versions for months now.

 **FILE X**  
 **Characters:** Numbuh 78 (aka Angeline), Numbuh 34, Numbuh Ten to Midnight; _mentioned_ Numbuh 42, Numbuh Four (aka Wallabee Beetles), Numbuh Five (aka Abigail Lincoln)  
 **File Under:** POST-SERIES TIMELINE – between (events described during) Operation: I.N.T.E.R.V.I.E.W.S. and g:KND  
 **Archive Label:** Numbuh 78 steps up to a new position in Global Command she doesn't want far from Sector X, which for a girl living in the swamp is not an unremarkable choice of preference.

* * *

Numbuh 78 had argued long and hard against the decision. But at last the day had arrived she was to be reassigned to Arctic Base—whether she liked it or not.

She sulked moodily while she took her belongings out of closets and drawers in her room, packing up her life's contents one at a time for transport away from New Orleans and Sector X.

 _Arctic Base._ They were sending her to Arctic Base. Officially her new title was Drill Sergeant Minor, seeing as the new Drill Sergeant Supreme really needed one. Why Numbuh Five had chosen Wallabee Beetles for the Academy job when the guy couldn't babysit a goldfish without another person maintaining emergency veto power was beyond Numbuh 78, but someone needed to be there to keep him from killing the poor cadets, and she found herself landed with an unwanted mid-year reassignment.

Her duties didn't stop at Drill Sergeant Minor. Numbuh Five had made it clear that though Numbuh Four would be running the show at Arctic Base in all but technicality (and probably throwing his weight around, too), he had _not_ been given the dual title of Sector Commander for Kids Next Door Arctic Base. Numbuh 78 held that title in his stead. For all she disagreed with her Supreme Commander on too many topics to count, this time Numbuhs 78 and Five were in full agreement. Having the final say out of Numbuh Four's hands running a place that big was definitely nonnegotiable.

She was interrupted from her task by a knock at the door.

"Uh…Commander?"

She glanced over. At the sound of her second-in-command's voice, she felt the unexpected pressure of tears building behind her eyes without any prompting necessary. "Hey," she said brusquely to Numbuh 34, and fought back the odd impulse to cry.

From the doorway, their soon-to-be Sector Leader grinned sheepishly and stepped sideways a bit, revealing a morose Numbuh Ten to Midnight hovering behind him. A few other familiar faces from Sector X peeked out from the hallway, though Numbuh 78 was predictably disappointed not to see Numbuh 42.

"We came to see if you needed any help," Numbuh 34 said. He folded his arms even though it didn't cover up how awkward the offer sounded, as none of them were the type to exactly hug it out or spend time on big goodbyes. "With, you know, packing. Pretty big job title you're heading to."

 ** _"It is bitterly cold in the Antarctic Ciiircle…"_** Numbuh Ten to Midnight said ominously in his trademark mystical-guru affectation. With a hand he pulled up the hood of his long black cloak, probably hoping Angeline hadn't seen any dried tear tracks on his pockmarked, pasty face. _**"You should pack extra sweaters and protective talismans to keep from catching the region's deadly 'Antarctic Hypothermic Madness'~!"**_

"Trust me, I'm already _plenty_ mad," Numbuh 78 said moodily, brushing off Ten to Midnight's warnings as the nonsense it was. "…And thanks for the offer, guys, but it's fine. I mean, I wasn't gonna fold my clothes or do anything fancy. I'm gonna have to wear a jacket over it when I get there. Is Numbuh 42 still in his room?"

"Still his room. Still crying," Numbuh 34 said, expression turning exasperated if a bit sad. For all the youngest member of Sector X liked to make Numbuh 34's existence as much of a chore as humanly (or inhumanly) possible and treated the older operative like a very taken-for-granted sibling, there was fondness there that Numbuh 34 couldn't hide. "He, uh, stopped calling you a 'mean lying leaving-face,' though."

Numbuh 78 laughed. Without warning she felt tears prickling again at her eyes and once again pushed them back down. Sector X was obviously affected by the Supreme Leader's giving Angeline the promotion, but Numbuh 42 was taking things the hardest. The six-year-old had been whining and crying for three days straight and hadn't run off to hunt for some trinket sacred to nerd lore in all that time, which was a new record and longer than anyone in the betting pool thought his attention span could last.

"I'll talk to the kid before I go," Numbuh 78 promised wearily. Numbuh 42 was sensitive, and a space cadet. They were all used to having to baby him.

She leaned up against a stack of boxes with a sigh and stared at the floor. "Wish I was leaving for better reasons," she continued. "But it'd be a bad idea to let a bully like Numbuh Four run the Academy by himself. If he treated new recruits anything like he treats Numbuh 42 and Ten-to-Dorknight back there–"

 _ **"I resent thaaat~"**_

"–then we'd have a big problem in the KND." Thinking of Numbuh Four's treatment of her dorky teammates (even they didn't deserve _that_ degree of manhandling), Angeline clenched her hand into a fist, irritated. But she stopped herself from getting too worked up before she let it go. Letting things go had been her first life lesson from the Bayou, where there was too much craziness to properly have a meltdown over any old novelty like fear or rage or sadness or wondering what species of swamp nerd was infesting the thirtieth sublevel of the treehouse.

"Now remember all the stuff I told you," she warned Numbuh 34 one last time, trying to remember if there was anything she'd forgotten to mention in outlining her—now his—responsibilities as head of Sector X. "You know where the data's saved for our treehouse's Martis Gras contingency plans in case of an emergency, right?"

"Yes sir, boss."

"And you're up to date on Friday the thirteenth drills for next month?"

"I am."

"Good." Numbuh 78 stepped away from the boxes she'd been leaning on and picked up a stray purple dress from the floor of her closet, closing her eyes and looking away from the door. She didn't want the boys to see her shed the odd tear or two that was coming through despite her vow not to cry.

Angeline had never imagined, on being made Sector Leader over a year ago, that this circus-like treehouse of werenerds and white boys would ever become the place that felt most like home. Let alone where she would find the hopeless, incapable children she considered her closest friends.

Yes, even Numbuh 42, who'd left her at the mercy of rabid Doctor Time-Space fans on several occasions for Yipper and was known to wander into traffic after pennies.

"…You know, I hate to say it," Numbuh 78 said quietly, "but I'm really gonna miss this place."

Numbuh 34 finally stepped fully into the room and approached her. He placed hand on her shoulder and gave her a look that was somehow reassuring even though it wasn't much different from his habitual scowl.

He didn't have to say the obvious—that of course her stupid assembly of swamp dwellers would miss her too. That they had maybe never appreciated how much they valued her until she was going to leave.

"You know, boss," he offered, after a moment of silence, eyeing the leaky, constantly-in-disrepair treehouse surrounding them, "I hear they have hot water down at the Arctic Treehouse. And plumbing that doesn't leak through the floors and working elevators–"

"I'm outta here, losers; everyone grab a box and help load the ship!"

* * *

 **FILE ADDENDUM**

Numbuh 78, Numbuh 34, and Numbuh 42 all debut in Sector X in Operation: U.N.C.O.O.L. and go on to make other small appearances for the rest of the series, especially the latter.

Numbuh Ten to Midnight is a nerd that appears only in the Kids Next Door serial comic "Operation: P.A.P.E.R.C.U.T." (published in Issue #31 of _Cartoon Network Action Pack_ ), and since he is never mentioned as a member of any KND treehouse I placed him with Sector X along with some other unnamed operatives. We only see the three in U.N.C.O.O.L. but the swamp setting and nature of the group, and the episode, give the impression that their treehouse could easily be hiding other members without much of a stretch, and besides that, nerds dealing in spooky curses are pretty much what you'd expect a treehouse of nerd-zombie fighters to have to deal with.


End file.
